


As Frost in Spring

by magumarashi



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Mutual Pining, but alas i am both lazy and impatient, if i were less lazy and more of a masochist this would be agonizingly slow, lots and lots of delicious pining, so this is a slowburn in spirit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2019-11-25 21:56:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18171947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magumarashi/pseuds/magumarashi
Summary: The story of two men who are very much in love with each other, but politics keeps getting in the way.





	1. First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> [Danny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButterfliesAndPenguins/pseuds/ButterfliesAndPenguins) and I saw a [beautiful fanart on twitter](https://twitter.com/deretta/status/1032277894079434752) that got us thinking "what would sieglovale actually look like" and we ended up brainstorming a bunch of galaxy-brain level ideas that have coalesced into this fic. Welcome to rarepair hell, we hope you enjoy the ride.

Aglovale hadn’t exactly approved of his youngest brother’s decision to take on the family tradition himself, but he supposed he ought not to interfere. His brother was a grown man now, after all, full of a naive idealism that Aglovale wished he was still at liberty to indulge. If Percival could learn a thing or two about the way of the world from his time serving as a knight in a neighboring kingdom, that would be all the better. And besides—at this point Aglovale’s own succession to the throne was assured; he had no need to embark on such a journey himself. He could focus his attention on bettering the country he would soon inherit.

If nothing else, his brother’s service would help strengthen diplomatic ties between Wales and whichever kingdom Percival chose. That kingdom, in the end, was Feendrache.

Aglovale was unfamiliar with Feendrache, aside from surface-level knowledge he’d gathered from his diplomats. Like Wales, it was a monarchy; its king served by a group of knights called the Order of Black Dragons. Its chief exports were mostly delicate handicrafts, but there was also talk of a healing substance produced there called Alma. Just a small amount of Alma could prolong life and cure any illness—or so it was said. Aglovale was suspicious of any substance claimed to be a cure-all, but he had never visited Feendrache, nor seen Alma at work himself. He supposed he would wait for his brother’s reports to come in before verifying that claim. If he could facilitate trade with Feendrache, illness in his own country would disappear…

It was a year before Percival made his way back to Wales; this time as part of a diplomatic envoy with his fellow knights. King Josef of Feendrache sent along the captain and vice-captain of his own order to wish Aglovale well on his ascension to the throne of Wales.

Aglovale met the knights in the throne room, where it was customary to receive foreign dignitaries and guests. The captain of the Order of Black Dragons cut a formidable figure as he strode across the room, black armor clinking. His face was obscured by a dark helmet, and at his back was strapped a sword longer than he was tall. Percival followed dutifully behind, wearing a blue and black uniform that almost looked too big for him.

 _Vice captain, already,_ Aglovale mused to himself. _You’re doing well for yourself after just one year of service, Percival._

Aglovale rose to greet them.

“Knights. I welcome you to Wales Castle,” he said. “Thank you for making the journey.”

The captain of the order nodded, quietly, before removing his helm. A mess of brown hair had been hiding out of sight; now freed, it fell around his shoulders in wavy tresses.

“We’re honored to be here, my liege,” the captain responded. “My name is Siegfried, Captain of the Order of Black Dragons.”

Aglovale paused, briefly, taking in Siegfried’s features— _This is the man they have in charge of the Order of Black Dragons? He can’t be much older than myself, and with such fair features… No, I see now the fatigue beneath his eyes. His hair is unkempt. This is the face of a man who has devoted everything to his king. If any of my knights should one day look so beautiful…_

_Ah._

“And this is my vice-captain, Percival,” said Siegfried, gesturing to the knight next to him.

“Ah, captain, we—!” Percival began.

“We need no introduction,” Aglovale finished for him. “Percival is, in fact, my own youngest brother.”

“Ah, that’s right!” said Siegfried. “Percival did mention something to that effect when he joined the order. My apologies.”

“It is of no consequence,” Aglovale waved him off. Percival’s true identity as an heir of Wales was not common knowledge, and with good reason. It was a weak point that had the potential to cripple relations with both countries if exploited. This risk was ingrained into the tradition itself—a king had to be prepared to carry the weight of both his own nation and that of his allies.

“I do see the resemblance now,” Siegfried went on, “And it would seem the House of Wales is blessed with a fine countenance.”

Aglovale couldn’t hold back a bemused smirk.

“You flatter, but you are correct nonetheless,” he responded.

Percival loudly but politely cleared his throat.

“Yes, yes, back to the topic at hand,” said Aglovale; his brother’s gesture had not escaped his notice. “I have a few rooms already prepared for you in the west wing. My servants will escort you there; please make yourselves at home. The festivities begin tomorrow morning, and I have prepared a schedule for your convenience.”

“Thank you,” said Siegfried, bowing politely. “By your leave, then.”

“Granted.”  

The knights turned to leave, escorted by Aglovale’s own footmen. The Lord of Frost sat back down in his chair to watch them go, leaning his head on one hand. Though it had been a brief introduction, he was satisfied with the knights of Feendrache so far. This Siegfried seemed courteous enough, and he certainly knew how to play to one’s ego. This could mark the start of a beautiful friendship between their two nations…

_And once I’ve built up that relationship, arranging trade agreements for the import of Alma should be no trouble at all…_

 * * *

“Captain?”

“Hm?” Siegfried looked up at Percival’s voice.

“You’ve been staring out the window for some time now.”

“Ah… sorry. I suppose I’m a bit distracted.”

It had been a little while since they’d been shown to their guest room; after shedding their armor, the two knights had so far passed the time in silence. Percival had settled in with a book, while Siegfried had taken a seat at the window, watching the bustle of the town far below—though his thoughts, of course, were elsewhere. Siegfried turned to face his young subordinate, smiling his usual disarming smile.

“There’s a lot going on, and you know I get nervous when formalities are involved…”

“Of course, of course,” said Percival. “You can relax for a bit, Siegfried. I’ve no doubt the weekend will go smoothly, with my brother in charge of planning.”

“Indeed…” said Siegfried. “Your brother… how many years is he your senior?”

“Hm? Ah, about five years… actually, I think he might be the same age you are.”

“Is that so?” This surprised him. “So young, and already running a nation…”

“You’re one to talk, running an order of knights at your age,” Percival jabbed.

“You’re right, you’re right.” Siegfried gave a conciliatory laugh. “He seems a decent man, and you certainly spoke highly of him.”

“Indeed,” said Percival. “Bullheaded as he may be, my brother’s dedication to Wales is laudable. I doubt you could find anyone else with a stronger commitment to the state.”

Siegfried smiled at this.

“Bullheaded? Spoken like a true younger brother.”

“It’s true,” said Percival. “We have our disagreements, but I don’t think there’s anyone better suited to run a country. It takes a stubborn will to forge ahead in the face of uncertainty, and that man is the most stubborn of any I’ve met. …In truth, I feel I have much to learn from him.”

“Heh. You’ve grown quite a bit since you joined the order, you know,” said Siegfried. “Give yourself some credit.”

“If you say so, captain.”

“In any case,” Siegfried went on, “I hope we can forge a good relationship with Wales. Feendrache would benefit from having such a powerful ally.”

“Agreed.”

“It would also be nice to take diplomatic trips more often,” said Siegfried. “I don’t think I would mind coming to Wales once in a while, after receiving such a warm welcome this time…”

And for a moment Siegfried thought to himself, selfishly: _with a handsome welcome party waiting for us, at that…_

He caught himself thinking it, and immediately felt embarrassed about it. He had little time for personal pursuits as it was; his duty was to his country, and little else. Even if Aglovale had a face of unmatched beauty, with perfect features… No, best not to let himself get any more distracted. He’d already spent the better part of an hour thinking about the new king of Wales, staring absentmindedly out the window to hide his preoccupation…

Thankfully, Percival hadn’t seemed to notice his captain’s momentary turmoil—or at least, he misread Siegfried’s embarrassment entirely.

“You were impressed with just that?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Just you wait until tonight, then. My brother will show you the full spread of Wales hospitality.”

Siegfried chuckled, lightly.

“I’ll look forward to it.”


	2. A Guilty Wish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in my heart of hearts i'd love to write slowburns that span 90 chapters and 200k words but i am the most impatient writer ever

Even long after his coronation, Aglovale still looked forward to meetings with foreign diplomats—and none more than Feendrache’s cohort of knights, with Siegfried at the helm.

Each time Siegfried visited Wales, he brought more surprises with him. The seemingly perfect captain of the Order of Black Dragons was not without his flaws: fashion was not his strong point, nor was he up to date on current trends. The other knights sometimes made jokes that flew right over their captain’s head. But, Aglovale reasoned, those things weren’t strictly necessary for a knight to know. His combat power was unmatched; his knowledge of monsters and wildlife equally formidable. Siegfried’s disheveled appearance became endearing somehow, when paired with his prowess as a knight: that the one called “Dragonslayer” was in fact a humble, self-sacrificing man was a pleasant surprise. Aglovale knew other knights who would gladly wield that title like a bludgeon, but not Siegfried.

To say Aglovale was charmed would be an understatement. Statesmen were easy to read: their trained, stiff manner always belied their underlying intentions. They were there to serve their own interests, whether those interests aligned with those of their country or not. But Siegfried was a knight, through and through—as though the ideal of what a “knight” should be had taken carnal form. He had no secret motives or hidden tactics; he was merely there to represent Feendrache as an extension of his king’s will. Aglovale had trained for years to achieve the kind of composure that, in Siegfried, seemed effortless.

There were no diplomats whose company Aglovale enjoyed more than Siegfried’s. The evenings spent over wine, chatting about this and that once business talk had ended for the day… Before long, something akin to friendship had bloomed between them, unrelated to their standing as knight and lord. This was a kind of mutual respect that, for much of his life, Aglovale had had trouble building with others. In most of his dealings with other people, Aglovale saw only opportunities for conquest: conversations and deals and negotiations were all battles to be won. With Siegfried, though—both parties stood on equal footing. He didn’t feel the need to take control of the conversation; in fact, more often than not he was quite happy letting Siegfried talk about whatever was on his mind that day. The mundanity of it put his own mind at ease.

As time passed, Aglovale found himself thinking less and less about how he might wheedle Siegfried into a trade agreement, and more about how he might wheedle Siegfried into a moment alone with him in a secluded room…

Ah, but those fantasies never lasted long.

If Aglovale still had the naivety of his youth, he would have allowed himself to think that he and Siegfried could be something more than friends—but he knew better than that. Siegfried had Feendrache, and Aglovale had Wales; each tending to the minutiae of their kingdoms in different ways. A country can hardly run itself! This became something of a mantra, each time he saw Siegfried and the other knights off on their return to Feendrache, and had to deal with the tinge of emptiness in his heart that always followed. _A country can hardly run itself_.

To Aglovale, there was nothing more important in the world than the success of Wales as a nation.

But the first time Siegfried knelt before him in that throne room—a gesture of fealty rarely repeated for anyone other than his own king—Aglovale found himself wondering whether Wales could do without him for just one day.  

* * *

Siegfried always, selfishly, looked forward to being sent to Wales on business—if  nothing else, for another few days that he could spend basking in the radiance of their king.

It was his deepest guilt, as a knight: that another kingdom’s ruler should catch his fancy in this way. He’d sworn an oath to King Josef, to Feendrache itself, and yet whenever he had a moment alone with his thoughts, his mind was already wandering back to the Lord of Frost.

At first, his attraction had been little more than infatuation. Aglovale was undoubtedly handsome, with an impeccable sense for fashion and aesthetics. He had both a regal presence and oratorical skill that could command the attention of an entire room; it was only natural that Siegfried was captivated by him. Who wouldn’t be, when faced with a man of such dynamic bearing? It was little wonder that Aglovale had captured the hearts of a nation, much less that of the captain of the Order of Black Dragons.

But even beyond appearances, Aglovale was every bit the entertainer in more private situations as well. Each time Siegfried visited Wales, he learned something new: about wine, about fashion, about the workings of a nation—even about small animals, which had taken him by surprise. (As it happened, Aglovale was fond of small, round animals, and kept a sizable menagerie in the castle for his enjoyment. Siegfried smiled every time he remembered it.) In matters of state, Aglovale was usually the one leading discussions and driving negotiations, but around Siegfried, he seemed to step back a little. With Aglovale, Siegfried never felt short of things to say, and his friend listened to him with careful consideration.

He hated to think it, even now, but his own vice-captain could have learned a thing or two from his older brother.

As time went on and the two of them grew closer, a new question began to gnaw at Siegfried’s mind: _I’m clearly quite infatuated with this man. If I were to pursue it…?_

The answer to that question never came, because it was an unanswerable question to begin with. There simply was no justifiable reason for a knight of Feendrache to pursue a romance with the lord of a foreign kingdom. It would put his loyalty to his own king in jeopardy—and if he had to choose only one of them, he couldn’t afford to have anything else complicating that decision.

Even so, part of him wanted to play pretend, even if just for a moment. On a solo trip to Wales, Siegfried knelt before the throne—a guilty wish, that he might dedicate himself to Aglovale for a stolen evening out of sight. A question undeserving of an answer.

From the look on Aglovale’s face in that moment, Siegfried wondered if perhaps his friend was asking those same unanswerable questions himself.


	3. The Kingslayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something's rotten in the kingdom of Feendrache.

The news came on a gray afternoon.

“Lord Aglovale! A message from Feendrache!”

Aglovale glanced up from his reading, his attention piqued. A messenger had come to find him in his study, harried and out of breath. Though his heart had fluttered at the mere mention of Feendrache, Aglovale soon realized that the news this stumbling messenger bore him was not something to celebrate.

“What is it?”

“King Josef has been murdered.”

Aglovale’s eyes widened.

“Murdered…? An assassination?”

“No, my lord. Treason.”

The messenger held out a piece of paper, and Aglovale snatched it from him.

“Witnesses say the Dragonslayer was the one that did it,” the messenger went on, before Aglovale had a chance to read the note. “The captain of the Order of—!”

“ _I know who Siegfried is,”_ Aglovale replied, perhaps a bit more sharply than necessary. He took a minute to compose himself before continuing, “My apologies. Yes, I know who the name ‘Dragonslayer’ is referring to. Thank you.”

Aglovale glanced downward for a better look at the message—it was a wanted poster, with an artist’s rendering of the perpetrator’s face and armor. There was no mistaking that it was Siegfried they were after; he would know that helm anywhere. _Wanted for murder and high treason in Feendrache: Siegfried the Kingslayer,_  the poster read. Aglovale’s stomach turned.

_Could Siegfried really have…?_

He didn’t want to believe it. He’d seen the man Siegfried was, or at least, he thought he had: the Siegfried he knew was kind, affable, loyal to a fault, and with a heart that could have held the entirety of the world inside. Could all of that really have been a front? What did Siegfried have to gain from killing his own king…?

Some cynical part of him, though, wasn’t surprised. He’d already seen the worst of what humanity had to offer, and he’d left his faith in others behind with the wreckage of that carriage all those years ago. It would be painfully naive not to expect treachery, even from his allies. And yet… and yet…!

“There’s a bounty out for him, too,” the messenger added, as if attempting to break the uneasy silence. “Feendrache is requesting that neighboring kingdoms keep an eye out.”

“I see,” said Aglovale. “And what of Percival—the vice captain?”

“Haven’t heard,” said the messenger. “I don’t think he was involved. I can send a message back inquiring after him if you’d like, my lord.”

“Yes, please do.” Aglovale handed the wanted poster back. “And take this to the copyist in town; I’d like about a hundred copies made.”

“Yes, sir.”

“One more thing,” said Aglovale, “On your way out, notify my own captain of the guard that I’d like to see him.”

“Right away sir.”

The messenger finally, mercifully, left him—as if leaving him alone with his thoughts could be a kind of mercy. Aglovale didn’t have the heart to return to his book; he stuck a marker between the pages and returned the tome to the shelf.

_Siegfried… what’s happened, my friend…?_

Siegfried wouldn’t betray his king like this. Whatever else he believed, Aglovale felt certain of that much, at least—the man was loyalty incarnate. Something must have gone deeply wrong in Feendrache for treason to be on the table. Could he have been framed? Or had the king done something to deserve his knight’s blade…? Either way, time was of the essence. If Feendrache had put out wanted posters, that meant Siegfried was on the run. Aglovale would have to move swiftly…

Lost in thought, Aglovale barely noticed the clacking of armor signalling that the captain of the royal guard had arrived.

“My liege,” the captain greeted him.

“Pellinore.” Aglovale looked up, addressing the captain by name. “There’s been a coup in Feendrache.”

“I heard, my liege,” Pellinore responded. “The Dragonslayer… to think we allowed such a snake to walk our halls…”

“Indeed,” said Aglovale. “And he is apparently still at large. I am having copies made of the wanted poster, and I’ll ask your help distributing them to the barracks.”

“Of course.”

“I will put out a formal announcement later, but please get the word out in advance: if any of our troops happen upon the Dragonslayer, I want him brought directly to me. I shall award whoever finds him _twice_ the bounty on his head, but only if he’s brought to me alive.”

Pellinore raised an eyebrow.

“My lord?”

“Need I repeat myself?” asked Aglovale.

“No, my lord, but I admit I’m confused—why the emphasis on sparing his life?”

“I believe he’s much more valuable to us alive than he would be as a corpse,” Aglovale said simply. “If we have him in our custody, he will be a useful bargaining chip.”

“You would prey on Feendrache at a time like this…?” Pellinore’s frown deepened.

“Pellinore, don’t forget: everything in this world exists for the glory of Wales,” Aglovale went on. “I’ve been waiting for such an opportunity as this. Rather than preying on the vulnerable… think of it as a chance to further deepen Feendrache’s trust in us. If we return their Kingslayer, docile and stripped of his claws, they will be glad to have us as an ally… and we will have a favor we can call in at a later time.”

Pellinore seemed unconvinced at first, but in the end Aglovale’s words seemed to sway him. He smiled to himself.

“Alright. I see your strategy now, my lord.”

“Excellent. Now go—inform your officers of my orders.”

“As my lord wills it, it shall be done.”

Pellinore turned on his heel and left, the clink of his armor fading as he grew further away. Aglovale’s confidence dissolved as the sound died down; he sat back down in his chair and held his head in his hands.

Whether his plan would work or not was up to chance now. The only thing left was to pray that his bet would pay off…

* * *

Siegfried waited until nightfall to move again. He couldn’t risk being seen, even in dense forest.

The events of the past week were all a blur. The truth about Alma, the poisoned villagers, the murder of his king… All of these things were problems he was in no position to solve. He had one mission now: to get to safety. If he could make it to a country with a skyport and sneak aboard an airship, he could escape to another island, regroup, and plan his next move. The port in Wales would be a three-day trek through the mountains, but if he could survive long enough…!

“Who goes there?!”

The Wales borders were more heavily guarded than Siegfried remembered. He quickly dispatched the two guards that had spotted him, careful not to kill them—but more had heard the struggle. He could hear the clatter of their armor drawing nearer. Siegfried had little time to waste. Leaping over rocky crags and crawling through dense underbrush, he searched for someplace to hide with little success. More guards seemed to spring up at every turn.

“He went that way—!”

“That’s it, men—!”

As he reached a clearing, he spotted a cave that looked promising—but in an instant the foliage around him rustled, and a horde of guards appeared seemingly out of nowhere. In seconds he was surrounded on all sides, facing the business end of several swords and pikes. He’d been chased into a trap.

Siegfried sighed. It seemed his unlucky streak would continue for a while yet.

* * *

The Wales soldiers brought him to the castle in the capitol—once a place that Siegfried would have been ecstatic to visit. He was not brought in through the entrance reserved for guests; instead, he was escorted through a back entrance and led to the dungeons. He was stripped of his armor and sword, and the soldiers dragged him into a dingy cell. They even chained him to the wall—were they worried about him escaping from a cell with no windows? Siegfried would have found it funny, if he wasn’t so exhausted. Even with his wrists in fetters, he was almost grateful just to have a place to sleep where he didn’t have to worry about being discovered.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting there, or whether he’d dozed off. The guards changed shifts once or twice before a new voice echoed down the hall.

“Out, out, every last one of you. Leave him to me.”

Siegfried perked up; it was a voice he knew all too well.

“My lord—?!” one of the guards responded.

“Do you defy me?” the voice boomed, angrily. “I said I shall see to him myself. Now leave us.”

“S-sir yes sir!!”

There was a loud clattering as the guards grabbed their weapons and left. As the din died down, the sound of footsteps became more pronounced. A figure appeared in front of the bars; a handsome face Siegfried didn’t ever think he would have the luxury to see again.

“Lord Aglovale,” Siegfried murmured. He smiled, weakly. “My friend. I’m sorry you have to see me in such a state as this…”

Aglovale said nothing, only took a key from his pocket and unlocked the door to the cell. He strode inside and stood over the disgraced knight, regarding him carefully. Siegfried found it difficult to get a read on him—there was something complicated in his expression. He braced for the worst.

“Is it true?” Aglovale asked quietly, after a time.

“Would you believe me if I said it wasn’t?” Siegfried responded, wanly.

“... Logically, I shouldn’t,” said Aglovale. “I’ve known many a two-faced diplomat in my time, and I’ve yet to be pleasantly surprised by any of them. Corruption and deceit are, sadly, the way of the world. That said…”

Aglovale reached up to the cuffs holding Siegfried’s wrists bound and unlocked them one by one.

“I shall grant you asylum for as long as you need.”

Siegfried could hardly contain his shock.

“You would harbor a fugitive in Wales…!?”

Aglovale simply turned away, folding his arms.

“I don't believe you to be the kind of man who would fell his own king,” he said. “Call it sentiment if you must."

Siegfried stared at him, massaging his wrists to ease the sting of the cuffs. For a few minutes, he was at a loss for words: of all the people he had considered friends, Aglovale was the first to show him any modicum of empathy since the incident…

“Your highness….” he managed to whisper, finally, “You have my deepest thanks…”

“As if I could just stand by and watch my friend go to the gallows,” said Aglovale, a smile ghosting his lips. “Now come, Siegfried. Can you stand? We’ve little time to waste.”

Siegfried unsteadily got to his feet; Aglovale held a hand out for him to latch on to.

“We’ll have to use the secret passageways underground,” said Aglovale. “Unfortunately, the castle is still plastered with wanted posters bearing your face, and precious few of my guards are in on this…”

“I see…”

“I have a carriage waiting at the surface,” Aglovale continued. “There is a summer villa owned by the Wales royal family a few miles from here. It is empty at this time of year; I can have you taken care of there until you’re ready to make your next move.”

“Thank you…” Aglovale’s words were coming almost too quickly for Siegfried to process. All he managed to pick up was that he was in good hands—for now. “Really, thank you…”

“You can thank me by telling me your account of what happened,” said Aglovale. “Not now, however. We’ll get you somewhere more comfortable and feed you a decent meal, and _then_ I will accept your thanks.”

Siegfried laughed, weakly.

“There’s the Aglovale I know.”

The two of them made their way through the dungeons, deliberately avoiding the guards’ posts. Aglovale reassured the knight that his armor and sword would be returned to him later; for now they needed to move as quickly as they could without drawing attention. At one juncture, they reached a dead end—this didn’t seem to stop Aglovale, however. He pushed gently on a bit of loose masonry, and with a low rumble, the wall split in two to admit them.

“Secret indeed,” said Siegfried, taking a look around as they ventured through. Even in the dimness, he noticed that they had passed into a section of new construction. Darkened rooms opened off the main corridor, with no doors or grates barring entry. The stones here were less worn.

“Why the secrecy?” he asked. “Is this new wing for the more dangerous prisoners…?”

“Ah, no, this wing isn’t for prisoners at all,” said Aglovale. “It is mostly used as storage for canned foods and other sundries. Emergency rations. It actually isn’t quite new; my father built it just before he passed.”

Siegfried nodded in understanding, though he couldn’t help but get the sense that Aglovale’s response seemed somewhat canned itself. There was something ominous in the air here, beneath the smell of fresher stone.

He had other things to worry about.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I pulled a name out of my ass for Aglovale's knight captain... okay, not so much out of my ass, Pellinore is another figure from Arthurian mythology, but. Might as well have been out of my ass
> 
> also fair warning that a lot of the plot foreshadowing i put in here... is just foreshadowing for things that happen in the dragon knights events, so there won't be that much payoff in the fic itself haha... why am i like this? who knooooows


	4. His Account

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aglovale brings Siegfried to the summer villa to get him settled in. There is much to be done...

The Wales royal family’s summer villa stood about an hour’s carriage ride away from the capitol. Siegfried hid beneath a borrowed cloak for most of the journey, wary that the footman would recognize his face. Once they reached the villa, Aglovale assured him that he would have no need to hide here: the small cohort of groundskeepers and servants living here year-round had not been sent wanted posters or warnings. For the most part, he would be able to live there in relative ease so long as he kept his head down for a while.

Aglovale had his servants put together a meal—roasted potatoes and grilled sausage, food that could be prepared quickly—then sent them away so Siegfried could eat in peace. It had been days since he last had a decent meal, and Siegfried wolfed down his food with an uncharacteristic disregard for table manners or decorum. Aglovale wasn’t sure whether he found this humorous or pitiable. Perhaps a bit of both.

“Now then,” he said, as Siegfried finished off the last of his potatoes. “Tell me what happened in Feendrache.”

In any other situation, Siegfried would have outright refused to share such sensitive information. His discovery in the Howling Valley had the potential to cripple Feendrache’s economy, in addition to the damage already done to its government. In the hands of a foreign leader, information like this could be a death blow. Whatever the circumstances that got him here—divulging his account to the king of Wales would legitimately constitute treason.

Yet something in the Lord of Frost’s eyes made Siegfried think that perhaps he was asking as a friend, and not as a dignitary poised for a power grab.

Siegfried spared no detail. He told Aglovale of the mysterious plague in Ruforth village that the king had tasked him with investigating. Suspecting that the river water might be the cause, he traced it to its source in the Howling Valley. It was there that he found Feendrache soldiers dumping a black, murky substance into the ground. After digging around in the royal archives and other places he had no business being, Siegfried learned that this substance was karmide, a poisonous byproduct of Alma. Unable to just stand by while the people of Feendrache suffered from a preventable disease, Siegfried prepared a report to inform King Josef of his findings.

If only it had been so simple. King Josef’s consul summoned him to the royal chambers on a rainy night, and Siegfried arrived to find the king already slain. With his dying breath, King Josef told Siegfried of a secret passage he could use to flee the castle and bade him to set the country right. In the next moment he was discovered by a deputy commander. He only barely managed to escape with his life.

Aglovale listened gravely to Siegfried’s account, nodding every so often to indicate that he was listening. Once he was certain Siegfried was finished, he asked:

“Do you know who the real culprit is?”

“I have a hunch,” Siegfried admitted. “There were more than a few shady characters in the king’s employ. But I don’t know what can be done about it now… It would be too risky for me to return to Feendrache as things are.”

“Indeed,” said Aglovale. He rose from his seat. “Lay low here for a time, Siegfried. I will ensure that you are well provided-for, and that any who come looking for you are turned away. You can devise a plan of action from the safety of my villa.”

“Lord Aglovale…” Siegfried looked up at him, reverently, before returning his gaze to the empty plates in front of him. “I don’t deserve such kindness…”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Aglovale. “This isn’t about ‘deserving’ anything. You were framed; that much is obvious. I will see to it that you have a chance to clear your name.”

“Thank you…” Siegfried murmured, though words alone weren’t enough to express how he felt at that moment. “... And I will make sure your hospitality isn’t wasted.”

“There you are,” said Aglovale, a smile gracing his lips. “Now, however, I must return to the castle. The hour is late, and I’ve business to attend to in the morning. I shall have a servant bring your belongings to the villa tomorrow.”

“Understood.”

“There are guest rooms on the second and third floors,” Aglovale went on. “Use whichever you like.”

“I will.”

“There is also a library in the west wing; you are free to use it if you need a way to occupy your time.”

“Thank you. Anything else?”

“... I think that will be all,” said Aglovale, though Siegfried got the feeling that the Lord of Frost had much more to say. “Be well, Siegfried. I will keep you apprised of the goings-on in Feendrache.”

“Much appreciated, your highness.” Siegfried’s lips lifted into a tired smile, and he added, “Have a safe journey back.”

Aglovale gazed at him for a long time before finally looking away. Siegfried briefly wondered whether he’d said or done something out of line, but Aglovale didn’t seem that agitated. Rather…  

“Goodnight… Siegfried.”

Could Siegfried believe, for a moment, that there was a spark of warmth in the Lord of Frost’s words? Oh, what he wouldn’t give to kindle that spark into a flame…

“Goodnight, my liege,” Siegfried managed to answer.

He’d have to bury those feelings for now, just like he had with everything else that didn’t serve him as a knight. In the uncertain future that awaited him, there would be no time for distractions. The stakes were just too high. He had an oath to uphold and a promise to keep.

But as he watched Aglovale go…

He ached for a future where he wasn’t so tied down by things like duty.

* * *  


The hour was quite late by the time Aglovale returned to Wales Castle. Servants scurried to draw a bath for him and prepare his bed. Even as he soaked the day’s fatigue away, Aglovale’s mind was abuzz: Siegfried was safe, for now, but there was much still to be done. He would have to come up with some story for how the captured fugitive had escaped under his watch. Word of Siegfried’s capture in Wales couldn’t be allowed to leave the country, either—lest Feendrache come calling to look for him.

And then there was the question of whether Siegfried would be able to expose the real culprit. It would likely be a long time before he could return to Feendrache, even covertly, without risking his life. He would have to wait for the dust to settle before making another move—but in the process, losing precious time that could be spent gathering evidence.

Just before retiring to his bedroom for the night, Aglovale sent for one of his younger knights. Thankfully, she was still awake—though she seemed puzzled why the king would call for her so late at night.

“My lord…” she began.

“At ease, Gareth,” said Aglovale. “I apologize for summoning you at such a late hour, but I’ve an important mission for you that must be kept an utmost secret.”

“I understand, sir.”

“I would like you to enlist in the Feendrache royal guard,” Aglovale continued. “Something rotten is happening in that country. I need someone who can supply me with insider information without arousing suspicion.”

“Um… Permission to ask a question, my lord?” Gareth asked.

“Granted.”

“Why me?” she said. “Is not Lord Percival already vice-captain of the royal guard?”

“He is,” said Aglovale. He looked away, briefly, hoping to communicate his uncertainty. “But I need a source I know for certain I can trust. I just can’t be sure how deeply corruption runs in Feendrache… You understand what I’m asking of you, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How soon can you be ready to depart for Feendrache?”

“As soon as tomorrow morning, sir,” Gareth replied.

“Very good. I will have my tacticians prepare a false identity for you, and you’ll be on the road by noon.”

“Understood.”

“That will be all, Gareth. You’re dismissed.”

“Thank you, sir. For the glory of Wales.”

As Gareth took her leave, Aglovale retired to his chambers. The events of the evening weighed heavily on his mind: not only had he chosen to hide a wanted fugitive, he would now be sending one of his own spies to Feendrache. Planting a mole was a risky move, especially in such turbulent times. If she were discovered, she would likely be killed. Relations between Feendrache and Wales would crumble in an instant, if not spark an outright war.

This worst-case scenario was a risk he would have to bear—for Siegfried’s sake, and for the benefit of Wales itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel a ~little~ bad for introducing Gareth when i don't rly plan to do anything with her after this, but i noticed that she was mentioned in the game as a mole from Wales specifically so I wanted to add a little context into why that might be :3c


	5. Pining Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Left to his own devices, Siegfried searches for ways to keep busy at the Wales royal villa.

The days passed slowly at the Wales royal family’s summer villa—and far more uneventfully than Siegfried was used to.

After he’d risen to national fame as “Dragonslayer,” his life had been a hectic rush of increased responsibilities. There were missions to run, recruits to train, diplomats to greet, strategies to plan. In his free time there was room for sleep and little else. Here, for the first time in what seemed like years, Siegfried suddenly found himself with ample idle time. He was deeply thankful that the villa had a library; without it he would have gone mad.

Before long, Siegfried fell into a sort of routine to break up the tedium. He dedicated a few hours a day to training, keeping himself fit by swinging his sword around in the inner courtyard. He set aside at least an hour or two to read, making sure to alternate between fiction and nonfiction (though he devoured the entirety of _The Popol Saga_ in a number of days, too enthralled to risk forgetting where he’d left off). And Siegfried made sure to take time each day for planning his return to Feendrache—in order to expose the truth, he would have to come up with a trap more elaborate than the one that had ensnared him.

Sometimes, though, his regimen wasn’t enough to keep him occupied. At times like these he took to wandering the villa, aimlessly, lost in thought. The villa’s halls had wide windows that afforded a view of the surrounding mountains: at this time of year, the autumn leaves were breathtaking. He wondered if Aglovale had ever had a chance to see them like this, considering this villa was mostly in use during the summer…

It made his heart race, a little. Just a little bit—the thought of one day sharing such a beautiful view with such a beautiful man…

He always felt embarrassed, catching himself thinking about such frivolous things, yet he was loath to abandon those fantasies. The fact was that Siegfried missed his friend’s company above all else. Aglovale had yet to visit him in the villa, which he supposed was reasonable: the man had a country to run, after all. Occasionally the Lord of Frost sent one of his most trusted knights over with an update on the goings-on. They exchanged letters this way, though Siegfried was always a little embarrassed of his penmanship. Aglovale’s handwriting was elegant, stately; his letters read almost like poetry. He had much more to talk about, too—Siegfried could rarely comment on little other than the weather, or what he’d been reading (the two kept up a lively conversation about _The Popol Saga_ for a few weeks). He looked forward to Aglovale’s updates like an anxious pup might await its master’s return.

Siegfried tried not to make his pining quite so obvious in writing, but it was hard, sometimes, when all he had to fill the days were his paper and pen.

Each time he got a response back, he’d pore over it, memorizing it, taking note of every penstroke. A word here and there with multiple meanings, references to things they’d talked about in more peaceful times… Reading Aglovale’s lyrical prose, he wondered if the Lord of Frost might be trying to hide something between the words. Invisible ink teeming with possibilities. A whispered “yes” to all the “what if’s?” he’d ever asked beneath his breath.

* * *

One afternoon, pondering what he might say in response to Aglovale’s most recent letter, Siegfried’s wanderings took him into a room he’d never noticed before; a door usually closed and locked now left ajar. Had a servant forgotten to close it on their morning rounds? Though he knew he shouldn’t pry, Siegfried’s curiosity got the better of him. He peeked around the door and, determining that nobody else was there, slipped inside.

Beyond the door, Siegfried found himself in a musty-smelling study. Bookshelves lined the walls, packed with gilded tomes. Some had titles Siegfried could read ( _Pathways to the Otherworld, Secrets of the Astrals_ ) while others were printed in a script he’d never seen before. A great oak desk sat at the far end of the room, near windows overlooking the courtyard. There was a side table stacked with metallic instruments of varying designs, and a few comfortable-looking chairs in which one could sit and read. Evidently it hadn’t been used in many years; all the furnishings and knickknacks were covered in a visible layer of dust…

… Everything, that is, aside from a sheet of parchment lying atop the oak desk.

Siegfried approached cautiously, still wary that a servant might discover him snooping—but he _had_ to find out what was on that paper, left sitting out as though its owner had been interrupted recently. As he got closer, he found that the parchment was in fact a map showing several nearby islands surrounding their own. Specific locations on each island had been circled in dark ink, and lines had been drawn linking each location to the capitol in Wales. Siegfried frowned, puzzling over what these cryptic annotations might mean. It almost seemed as if the positions of the circled locations and the capitol formed an arcane design….

“Sir Siegfried, there you are.”

Siegfried jumped, nearly upsetting the paper and books on the desk, but quickly got ahold of himself. He whirled around to see who could possibly have snuck up on him—only to see Aglovale’s right-hand man, Pellinore, standing in the doorway. Siegfried sighed in relief. Pellinore was one of the few men Aglovale trusted enough to bring into the fold on Siegfried’s situation. He seemed a decent enough man, but there was something about him that set Siegfried on edge.

“You scared me, Pellinore. I didn’t hear you approaching…”

“My apologies; it was not my intention to frighten you,” said Pellinore. “I see you’ve found my late Lord Gahmuret’s study.”

“It seems I have.” Siegfried glanced around, assessing the room in the context of this new information. “I’m impressed that he kept up a study this well-furnished in a summer villa, in addition to the library.”

“My former lord was fond of books,” said Pellinore. “He believed strongly that knowledge and literature were key to a prosperous kingdom. In fact, it was my lord Gahmuret who first opened the royal library at the castle to the public—now any citizen in Wales can borrow books as they please.”

“What a noble endeavor,” Siegfried commented, smiling.

“Of course, there were some titles that had to be pulled from the stacks before the public was granted access,” said Pellinore, pointedly. “Many were brought here to the summer villa for Lord Gahmuret’s private use… So do be careful where you snoop, Sir Siegfried. Some of these tomes hold knowledge that is not for the faint of heart.”

“My apologies. My curiosity got the better of me.”

Siegfried headed toward the door, and Pellinore bowed respectfully before following him out of the room and shutting the door.

“Now, as to why I’ve come,” said Pellinore. Siegfried nodded to him. “Along with the usual correspondence from my lord Aglovale, I bring news from Feendrache.”

“Oh?”

“We’re told the Order of Black Dragons has undergone a reorganization of sorts following your departure,” said Pellinore. “They’ve changed names to the Order of White Dragons, with Sir Lancelot at the helm as captain. Sir Vane has been appointed his vice captain.”

“What of Sir Percival?” Siegfried asked, frowning. He hadn’t been in touch with his former vice captain at all since the incident; he didn’t want to imagine how the apparent betrayal would have affected him…

“Sir Percival left the order some time ago,” said Pellinore. “I was not told where he was headed, or what he hoped to do. Lord Aglovale has not heard from him, either.”

“I see…” Siegfried’s heart sank a little. For Percival to abandon the order—and his family’s tradition—Siegfried’s alleged betrayal must have cut him deeply. _I hope I can make it up to him someday, when all this is over…_

“Here’s this,” said Pellinore, holding out a letter stamped with a wax seal. “Have you anything for me to take back?”

“Not this time, Siegfried responded. “Tell Lord Aglovale that I’m grateful for his correspondence, as always, and look forward to reading it.”

“I shall. Good day to you then, Siegfried.”

“Yes, good day. And have a safe journey back.”

Pellinore bowed to Siegfried before turning on his heel and walking back down the hallway, toward the main entrance. Siegfried sighed, lightly, before turning the opposite direction. He was eager to return to his own quarters, where he might read Aglovale’s letter undisturbed…

* * *

Pellinore did not quite make it to the front entrance. Once he reached an empty hall, he snapped his fingers—and in the blink of an eye, he stood once again in his office at Wales castle. On Pellinore’s desk was a map not unlike the one that had been left precariously on Gahmuret’s desk, complete with identical annotations. Islands circled in dark ink, this time with notes that only Pellinore could read.

“So he saw the map….” said Pellinore, something sinister in his voice now. “No matter. A mere human couldn’t know the significance of what he’d seen. The path remains clear for Lord Aglovale’s domination.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this one also has a lot of foreshadowing that doesn't pay off in the fic itself (but will in context with Frost & Flame) so sorry about that.... Mostly it bothered me that Siegfried's big save in F&F was "well i saw these weird magic circles on my travels so i destroyed them" and i wanted to see if I could add some context to make that less of an asspull lmao
> 
> Pellinore turning out to be the otherworld agent was just something i threw in for fun


	6. Meetings and Partings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As easy as his life is in Wales, Siegfried knows Feendrache is waiting for him. The Lord of Frost himself is there to see him off personally...

Autumn gave way to a wet, frigid winter; when at last the snow cleared, winter melted into spring. Siegfried received one last letter from Aglovale as the cherry petals began to scatter in the courtyard: seasonal staff would soon make their way to the villa in preparation for the summer. With servants and courtiers coming and going, Siegfried’s ability to remain hidden there would be compromised during the summer months (much, Aglovale noted, as he would welcome the opportunity to lounge away the summer in his best friend’s company). The Lord of Frost asked whether Siegfried was ready to leave Wales, offering to arrange for alternative lodging if Siegfried needed more time. But Siegfried smiled to himself as he folded up the letter.

“No, I suppose I ought to be on my way,” he said quietly. “Feendrache is waiting for me.”

This was the response he sent back to Wales castle with the messenger. A reply came within hours: They would meet at the edge of the villa property under cover of darkness, in two nights’ time. Aglovale would personally escort him to the border and ensure that he wouldn’t be pestered by guards. 

Siegfried spent those two days in meditation, emerging from his room only to answer his body’s various needs. He knew he was supposed to be focusing on his upcoming journey back to Feendrache—the intricate plans he would set in motion, and all the ways he could recover his mission if something went wrong—but his mind kept wandering to Aglovale. He would be seeing his dear friend in person for the first time in months, and this would likely be their last contact for a long time. There was so much he wanted to say to him; if Aglovale could know even a fraction of the longing Siegfried had kept in his heart all this time…  

As deeply as he wanted to confess how he felt, even more so he knew that now wasn’t the right time. If he told Aglovale of his devotion now, directly before embarking on a dangerous mission, he’d only be tempting fate.

_ Someday, when all of this is over… _

He knew that even that much was asking for trouble, yet the words repeated themselves in his head, over and over again…

_ Someday, I’ll… _

* * *

The Lord of Frost’s carriage arrived at the summer villa just after midnight. Aglovale dismissed the footman and bade him to stay the night in a guest room; after all, he must have been tired from the journey. As soon as the footman was out of earshot, Aglovale took the reins and got the carriage turned around. Guiding the horses on foot, he made his way back down the road, through the outer garden. The summer villa was surrounded by sweeping gardens which made way for lush forest on all sides. The crescent moon above provided just barely enough light to see: the trees and bushes were all peppered with the buds of new leaves.

It was not long before Aglovale reached the agreed-upon meeting place: at the entrance to the estate there was a sign flanked by bushes and boulders. As he approached, the bushes stirred—Siegfried emerged from them, armor clinking. He carried his broadsword in one hand and a small satchel with the rest of his belongings in the other. Though Aglovale could barely see it in the darkness, Siegfried’s face was the most welcome sight he’d ever had.

“Siegfried,” said Aglovale, managing to keep his voice level. “Thank you for waiting.”

“It was no trouble, my lord.”

“Let’s get your things into the carriage. Quickly, now… Time is of the essence.”

“Yes, sir.”

Aglovale opened the door for him, smiling to himself at this reversal of the usual order. In ordinary circumstances, a knight was expected to open the carriage door for the king—but these were far from the usual circumstances. Once Siegfried and his things were inside, Aglovale climbed into the driver’s seat. With a gentle shake of the reins, the horses started walking.

“Lord Aglovale, would you like me to…?” Siegfried offered from inside the carriage.

“Hush,” said Aglovale. “What kind of host would I be if I made my guest do the driving?”

“I suppose that’s fair.”

As they grew further and further from the villa, Aglovale coaxed the horses into a trot, and then a gallop once they’d left the forest and the road smoothed into a straight line. For the most part, Siegfried was silent for the ride to the border. Aglovale kept trying to think of things to say, but kept holding his tongue; the former knight likely had a lot on his mind. Finally, he turned to ask if Siegfried needed anything else for his journey—only to find him asleep across the seat in the back, using his satchel as a pillow. 

He smiled to himself.

_ Rest well, Siegfried. Gather your energy for the journey ahead, and leave this to me. _

* * *

Aglovale brought the carriage as close to the border with Feendrache as he could, avoiding main roads that would lead to customs checkpoints and guards. Eventually he reached a point where the carriage could go no further; he then tethered the horses to a tree and went to rouse his friend from his nap. He lit a lantern in the darkness, pausing for a moment to admire Siegfried’s sleeping face. Even curled up on the seat, Siegfried looked so calm in sleep; his worries far away. What Aglovale wouldn’t have given to drive the carriage right back to Wales castle, carrying the sleeping knight to a more comfortable place to lay his head… 

Siegfried likely wouldn’t forgive his selfishness, if he acted on it.

“Siegfried,” said Aglovale gently. He gave the knight a little push. “Wake up. We’re close to the border, but we’ll have to go on foot from here.”

Siegfried stirred, and after a time he opened his eyes blearily. His expression warmed when he saw Aglovale standing over him.

“I’m sorry, did I doze off…?”

Aglovale couldn’t help laughing, quietly.

“You did. Come, friend. Let’s get you to Feendrache.”

Siegfried gathered his sword and his satchel and jumped down from the carriage, armor clinking as he went. Aglovale pointed into the forest nearby.

“Beyond this forest is a field that marks the border with Feendrache,” he said. “I will take you as far as the border, in case the night watch is on patrol.”

“Thank you,” Siegfried murmured. “Really, thank you for doing this… for everything…”

“You can save your thanks for when we part,” said Aglovale. “We’ve a few minutes of hiking yet.”

“You don’t have to go so far as to…”

“Nonsense.” Aglovale sighed, briefly, before adding, “Call it selfish, but I’d like to take advantage of what little time I have in your company—for old times' sake. Who knows when our paths will cross again?”

“Ah…” Siegfried’s heart felt light. Could he imagine—just for a moment—that there was something else hidden in those words? “Well then. Lead the way, my lord.”

“No need to stand on ceremony, Siegfried. There’s no one else out here; nobody to impress. Just ‘Aglovale’ will do.”

Aglovale’s words pierced Siegfried’s heart a second time; he was thankful that in the dimness it was easy to hide the color in his face. He smiled. 

“Very well, Aglovale it is.”

* * *

The two tread carefully through the forest, Aglovale carrying a lantern to light their way, and Siegfried looking up every so often to judge their direction from the night sky. To fill the silence, Aglovale regaled him with tales of his childhood: how he’d gone strawberry picking with his brothers and mother as a child, and how the brothers once met a Primal Beast deep in a forest not unlike this one. These had been simpler times, and Aglovale spoke of them with a reverence that surprised the knight traveling at his side. Siegfried got the sense that Aglovale valued his family highly—even as he led the throne in solitude, his parents dead and siblings scattered. Perhaps he valued them so highly  _ because  _ he knew he would one day lose them… 

The thought made his heart ache.

“What about you, Siegfried?” Aglovale’s voice brought Siegfried out of his thoughts. “I haven’t heard much of your family.”

“Ah, that’s because…” Siegfried paused, then scratched his cheek bashfully. “We actually haven’t spoken in a while.”

“Oh?”

“My parents were against my becoming a knight,” Siegfried admitted. “They had wanted me to become a consul, or some other high-ranking official that didn’t have to see the front lines. But I had always dreamed of serving Feendrache as a knight… so they told me that if I truly had the resolve to become a knight, I should be willing to discard any attachments that would hinder my loyalty to the crown. And so…”

“You severed ties with them,” Aglovale finished for him, voice low.

“Perhaps not my proudest moment,” Siegfried admitted. “But I don’t exactly regret that decision. I had felt for my whole life that becoming a knight was my calling, so I was prepared to do whatever it took to serve Feendrache…” He looked down. “I still am, I suppose.” 

“Heh,” Aglovale couldn’t help smiling. “Your dedication is admirable, Siegfried. Any king would count themselves lucky to have a knight like you in their employ.”

“You flatter me…”

“It is my honest opinion,” Aglovale continued. “However… I do also think you ought to write to your parents, once in a while. I’ve no doubt they still worry about you, even if you’ve formally parted ways.”

“You may be right…” Siegfried grimaced, slightly, hoping his friend couldn’t see his face in the darkness. “Perhaps when all of this is over. They’ve no doubt heard their son is currently a fugitive…”

“Yes, I’d say that’s a fair assumption.” 

The forest was starting to thin now; trees and undergrowth gradually grew more sparse. Before long, the two of them came to the forest’s edge, where idyllic, grassy hills stretched before them into the night.

“This must be the border,” said Siegfried. He turned to Aglovale, trying to quiet the anxiety welling up in his stomach. His dear friend looked even more lovely in the dim light of the lamp, his blond hair catching the moonlight just so. When would he next get to lay eyes on this beautiful man…? “Your highn—Aglovale. I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for me…”

Aglovale closed his eyes and let out a small sigh before returning Siegfried’s gaze, smiling.

“Truly, it was no trouble. You’re my friend, Siegfried—that is an honor few men can boast of having.”

The Lord of Frost approached him, reaching out to place a hand gently on his shoulder.

“Be well,” he said. “I wish you best of luck for your return to Feendrache. Should you need to find refuge in the future, know that the gates of Wales will always be open to you.” 

Siegfried nodded to him, resolutely. Whatever he felt for this man—this heartbreakingly beautiful, unbelievably gracious man—he would have to leave those feelings here at the border. There would be no more time for distractions once he crossed into Feendrache. Even so… in his heart, he vowed to repay the Lord of Frost’s kindness after everything was over.

“Let’s meet again, in better circumstances.”

Aglovale lowered his head in acknowledgement, then lifted it, indicating that Siegfried ought to get going. He withdrew his hand, letting it fall to his side. Siegfried returned his nod one final time before turning around to assess his path across the field. There was a wooded area on the opposite side that would likely provide some cover. 

“Farewell… Aglovale.”

“Yes. Until we next meet, my friend.”

And he was off, crouching into the tall grass and moving with impressive speed for a man carrying so large a sword. Aglovale watched him go until Siegfried’s dark armor disappeared in the shadows between the weeds, the clinking of metal plates growing too faint to hear. Before long, the only sound was the rustling of grass and leaves in the night air.

* * *

_ Siegfried… you are my closest friend. That is no small feat, you know. I don’t take to others easily; I never have. It’s difficult for me to come to trust other people, especially as deeply as I have come to trust you. That I would provide asylum for you in a time of need is only a matter of course. This is how friends ought to treat each other, is it not? _

_ And yet… _

_ Why do I now feel so empty, watching you trot off into the darkness alone…? _

Aglovale stood there longer than he intended to, lost in thought. At last, the sound of an owl spooked him out of his daze, and he supposed he ought to get back to the carriage. He still had to drive back to Wales castle before anyone discovered that he’d snuck out…    
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im rly sad that we know so little about sieg's background so i ended up making something up


End file.
